Disclaimer: I do not own Pokémon or "The Shining." I am not making money in creating this story, I'm just doing it to entertain you and myself. Enjoy!
So there is no confusion, all the characters are the same age and appear as they do in the TV Series.
Last time, Ash, Misty, and Brock coped with the horrifying nightly experience Misty had. After separating to do their own things in the hotel, Ash has found himself in a mysterious situation concerning room 220.
Summary: Who is summoning Ash into room 220? What does Brock discover in the hotel's basement? And what makes Misty run screaming out of the pool? Our heroes certainly aren't the only ones in the Fireside's Warmth Hotel. . .
Midnight! Pokéball Go!
by Spruceton Spook
Part 9:
The Unwanted Guests
The sound of dripping water was beginning to make Brock insane. He had been listening to its constant song since he had first planted his feet on the basement's cold, cement floor. It was quite dark down there, but it didn't take long before his eyes fully adjusted to it. The waterdrops were about the only sound he was hearing the whole time, but other than that silence prevailed. Clouds of steam blew out of his mouth and nose--the temperature down there had dropped down into the 40's.
The basement was almost like a dungeon. The walls were all made out of thick, heavy stones, and every entranceway was a magnificent arch. The very few windows that dotted the upper sections of the walls were protected by metal bars, as well as clouded over with years of dust. It was almost making Brock shiver. He didn't know why he was down here. But despite all the talk going around that so called "ghosts" might inhabit the Fireside's Warmth, he still found it interesting and new.
Brock realized that the basement's layout plan was more confusing than any of the hallways in the main hotel. He encountered room and room, all which seemed like the rest, stacked to the ceiling with boxes and chairs, and some filled completely with pipes. Brock had never seen so many pipes in his life. The all twisted and turned and crossed each other more times than he could count.
Looking down at his watch, Brock discovered that he had been down there for twenty minutes. Twenty minutes of aimlessly walking around sure had gone by fast, and he wasn't sure how Ash and Misty were coping. He decided that it was best for him to go back up, probably telling them that going into the basement was about as exciting as watching a Metapod vs. Metapod Pokémon battle.
He turned and began to retrace his steps. He looked around confusingly, then turned again into another room. God, they all looked the same to him. Why did they have to make them all identical? He stopped and closed his eyes. He was making himself nervous now, and he knew that was the worst thing to do. Unfortunately, he also realized that he had no clue where he was. Brock took deep breaths, then opened his eyes again, and searched around for something familiar. He was relieved when he finally spotted something that he had remembered seeing--or was it?
"Okay, okay, this is great," Brock muttered to himself, rubbing his temples.
He shrugged to himself, and walked around some more. He couldn't believe it. Every room was just like the last, every entranceway arch was alike, and the dripping water was beginning not only to annoy him, but to creep him out. Suddenly, he felt like he was in a dungeon, some sort of forbidden castle chamber. For some reason now, he found himself walking more swiftly. He chose no particular destination, he just kept walking from room to room to room. His swift walking turned spontaneously into jogging. Where the hell was the damn staircase? He repeated the question over and over in his head, and a couple times he even said it out loud. The basement seemed like a blur now. He wasn't even sure if he was going around in circles. He didn't know what he was sure of now.
Without warning, he crashed into a tower of boxes. He had not been looking where he was going, and his swinging arm seemed to have knocked into it. The boxes came down with a thud, a heavy thud since they seemed to be filled with many massive objects. He hopped out of the way of the collapsing boxes, and one specific box broke open as it hit the ground. Newspapers and other old paperwork spilled out onto the floor near his feet. Some were wrapped together with string, others were loose. Brock bent down to clean up the mess. He set the box upright, and one by one put the bundles of papers back in the box. They were so old that some were rubbing off into motes of dust in his hands. Suddenly, he came across a book amidst the disintegrating paper. He slowly brought it to his face to scrutinize it more carefully. Wiping the dust off the cover, it read out in the most striking gold calligraphy: My Scrap Book.
Brock repeated the title out loud and smiled. Pulling up one of the fallen boxes as a chair, he sat down and carefully opened the fragile cover of the hotel's historic collection of stories.
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Ash quivered slightly as he made his way up the main staircase to room 220, his uneventful destination. Pikachu tagged softly behind, looking up at his trainer with fretful eyes. The daze that Ash had fallen into about ten minutes before had not gone away. The lone brass key jingled rhythmically on its ring in Ash's hand. Ash knew where he was going, but why he did not yet know. The whispers that had been pursuing him moments ago had once again died down, and as much as Ash wanted to get away from them as fast as he could, he could not fight the curiosity the inner child within him possessed. He thought about them as he walked down the dimly lit hallways, wondering whether or not what he heard was just his imagination or in fact the callings of what Misty believed were that of another world.
Ash sort of believed it, as well. "Why am I doing this?" he asked himself out loud for about the hundredth time. Pikachu looked up at him, hoping that Ash finally realized that he was there. But unfortunately Ash's mind and eyes were somewhere else.
"Pika pi!" Pikachu cried desperately to get Ash's attention. Ash did not reply. Pikachu could tell that they were nearing where Ash had been standing in a daze moments before, and for the first time it frightened him. Ash was paying no attention to him, as if he weren't there at all. Pikachu hoped that Ash would come to his senses soon, even if he had to thundershock him back to them. Ash was under some sort of unexplainable spell, and it was scaring him more by the minute.
Room 220 loomed in the near distance. Ash reached it and stopped, looking up at the door's shiny number plate and then down at the gold-plated doorknob. He ceased his breathing for a second, but the whispers that he was expecting did not come. Maybe they were in his mind the whole time. No matter what is was, Ash still felt drawn to 220. He hadn't seen a normal room yet anyway, and it was his hotel, so why not a little look-see?
Ash slipped the key into the hole. Pikachu stood back a bit uneasy. The door opened as soon as Ash pushed it a bit, creaking on its hinges. Poking his head into the room, Ash glanced around. Sunlight hit his eyes instantly, causing him to squint. He moved one of his legs into the room and slipped in gradually. Ash wasn't sure what was keeping him from freely opening the door and walking in. He eventually got himself into the room, only leaving the door open a crack.
Pikachu was about to follow when the door suddenly swung the opposite way, slamming soundly in his face.
"Pikachu?" he asked, alarm rising in his voice.
His eyes flew around the room. Although it was a normal guest room, it was still spectacular. It was a single bedroom, but the bed was gigantic and beautiful. Lovely hardwood furniture dotted the room. A 35-inch TV sat on a massive dresser. Ash jumped back a bit when he unexpectantly caught his reflection in a hidden mirror on the opposite side of the room. His heart pounding, he smiled and laughed at his stupidity.
"Ash."
Ash froze again. This time his mind was boggling. Was he imagining this? "What is it?" he asked softly.
"Come on in, Ash. Don't be afraid."
Ash's eyes were wide with terror. He wanted to run, he wanted so badly to turn the other way, but something was keeping him. He could compare the feeling to the ones you have in a dream when you know something's chasing you, but you can't seem to move your legs. Ash couldn't even turn his head towards the door now, a force upon him was restricting him intensely.
"Ash....oh, Ash. Come on in Ash."
"I am in," Ash said weakly in the softest tone, pointed in the only direction his feet would allow him, and that was away from the door, which Pikachu was now beginning to scratch on desperately.
"Come on in," the voice repeated once again. It was that same delicate female's voice. Now Ash's head was turned towards the bathroom. The voice seemed to come from there.
"No....no," Ash thought to himself. But he couldn't help it. His feet were moving again, taking slow and shaky strides towards the bathroom. Ash wanted to stop so badly that it was killing him. His heart pounded at an unstoppable rate, and a hot sweat was breaking on his brow. His body shook as if he were in the snow with no clothing on. But he still walked on.
"That's right, Ash. Come on in. Good boy."
Ash walked cautiously into the bright white room. It was a huge bathroom, in fact it was too roomy. Ash's eyes darted around it. The whisper stopped again, but his nervousness did not. Finally, his head fastened on the bathtub. It stood there in the loneliest corner of the room, its magnificent shower curtain drawn around it, enclosing it entirely.
Ash couldn't comprehend why he was staring at the bathtub inquiringly, but his eyes narrowed at it, and he began to walk closer toward it. His heavy and unstable breathing remained with him as his arm slowly but surely extended towards the curtain. His hand wrapped around the slippery surface of the curtain, but he grasped it tightly in his hand. "Why am I doing this?" Ash asked himself. "Why don't I feel so good? Oh God, what's happening?"
With a deep inhalation of air, he pulled the curtain back with a whoosh, and gaped down at the most ghastly scene of his life. With a deafening scream, he tore out of the room.
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Brock flipped through the hotel's scrapbook, taking in every picture and reading almost every article. The articles ranged from the year of the hotel's opening in 1911 till the most recent, which was pasted to the last page of the scrapbook dated 1993, when Mr. Vrenden took over the Fireside's Warmth. Brock loved looking at all the pictures, seeing all of the hotel's visitors and operators from years past. The pictures that interested him the most were those from the mid 30s and 40s, when the hotel was in its heyday. The most glamorous parties and celebrations were held in those years, bringing around the area's most prestigious people.
Brock also discovered an amazing fact while flipping through the yellowed pages. Mr. Vrenden and his father were not the only ones in their family in charge of the hotel. The hotel itself was planned out and built by a Vrenden also, and the hotel had always been a family owned business. Brock found it rather sad that Mr. Vrenden left it to them instead of his family, but he figured that that was not their problem now. If that's what Mr. Vrenden wanted, then so be it. It kind of seemed, however, that Mr. Vrenden was in a hurry of some sort to get rid of it. Why wouldn't he want to own his own family heirloom?
Despite this, Brock shrugged to himself and smiled. He liked the hotel, and was actually beginning to form a love for it. It amazed him, and never in his life had he spent much time in a place like it. For a second or two, he wished that he had battled Mr. Vrenden for it. He knew that he would have appreciated it more than Ash, who only wanted a badge in the first place and probably would have traded it now for one. But Brock shook the thought out of his head immediately. Ash owned it, and that was that. Brock never liked to be jealous. He sure did love this hotel, though. He didn't have to push that out of his mind--there was nothing wrong with that.
"Brock. . ."
The very silent whisper floated through the air. Brock looked up instantly, confused. "Ash, Misty? That you?"
Silence. Brock shook his head wildly. "I need more sleep," he said with a small laugh and turned back to the scrapbook.
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Misty let her bathrobe drop onto one of the pool's many lounge chairs and smiled brightly at the aqua water of the pool. She was right, it did make her feel better. Togepi sat down on the same lounge chair, and babbled happily at his trainer. Misty smiled back at him, and sat down on the side of the pool, letting her feet wade around in the shallow portion of the pool. The water was at a pleasant temperature, and the feel of it against her skin was most zestful.
She finally decided to slip into the pool's refreshing waters. She dunked her head under immediately to get used to the water. Surfacing, she wiped the few wet strands of hair that had fallen over her eyes. Taking a deep breath, she dove under once again with her eyes closed tightly, and did a couple of flips. Misty absolutely loved this pool.
Togepi squealed joyfully to her, and she waved back. "I'm just gonna swim for a while, okay? Be good."
Although she loved to swim, she was always worried about the chlorine situation of the pool. Too much of the chemical sometimes irritated her eyes. It never seemed to bother her sisters' eyes. Maybe that was what made her different from them. It always took her a while to get the nerve to open her eyes under the water, and today was no exception. Swimming towards the shallow section, she carefully placed her feet on the pool's floor.
Checking on Togepi once again, she smiled, took a deep breath and dove into the water facing the deep section. She glided gracefully under the water, and after she had been under a while she decided to open her eyes. The water hit her eyes with a semi-cold burst, but soon she squinted enough to adjust her blurry vision. Her skewed eyes suddenly shot open. The water was not the crystal-clear blue it had been three seconds ago. It was red. Blood red.
Her remaining held breath shot through her nose at full blast and she surfaced abruptly. Even though the water was stinging her eyes a little she gaped in horror towards the opposite side of the pool. Very slowly, the pool's blue water was spreading out into a deep, dark red. Misty froze and watched it creep closer to her until she finally bolted out of the pool. It was usually difficult to run through water, but it seemed to not get in her way now.
She slipped running up the pool's descending staircase, hitting her upper shin. The pain didn't seem to affect her much for she sprinted over to Togepi and grabbed him. She didn't even dare look back at the pool, the fear inside of her was directing her one way and one way only--out.
Gasping out of fear and a little bit of disbelief, she crashed through the pool's heavy door, and nearly tripped several times to get her momentum going. Tears began to cloud her eyes as she ran as fast as her legs allowed her down the long corridor. Blasts of chilled air hit her sopping wet body but she didn't give a damn. Whatever the hell that was in the poolroom, whether it be real or just another absurd figment of her imagination, she didn't want anything to do with. And another thought ran through her mind as well--she didn't want anything to do with this hotel. It was only till she reached the hotel's main lobby that she began to let out horrifying, blood-curdling screams.
Her screams were matched almost instantly by Ash's, whose weren't as high-pitched but just as loud. As she bolted into the lobby Ash came rampaging down the stairs two steps at a time. His head was beet red from screaming, his brow glazed with sweat.
Brock didn't know how he found his way out of the basement, but he was brought instantly out of his dilemma from the sound of Ash and Misty's intense screaming. Without a second thought he dropped the scrapbook on the floor and raced through room after room of the meandering basement and found the stairs in a flash. He vaulted up the stairs so fast that it seemed he was flying.
Ash and Misty nearly collided into each other at the base of the grand staircase. Frozen stiff in fear and shock they stared at each other, tears starting to stream down each of their faces. Their breaths came out in heavy puffs and each of their eyes were fixated on the other's. Misty could read the terror in Ash's chestnut-brown eyes while her deep blue eyes displayed the same to Ash. Almost as if they could read each other's thoughts, they began to sob and threw their arms around each other.
Brock crashed through the basement door and ran as fast as he could to where the crying was coming from. As soon as he spotted Ash and Misty he halted in disturbance. Thousands of thoughts ran through his head as he started up again toward his obviously distraught friends. Kneeling on the floor at the base of the stairs, Ash and Misty grasped each other and wept soundly into each others shoulders.
TO BE CONTINUED. . .